splat tim the woomy: the shitty chronicle
by OptimisticNihilist
Summary: Join in with Splat Tim the Woomy in his adventures across the West Coast, where he does jobs and stuff for really legitimate people. Coming from a very rough background, Splat Tim is no stranger to violence Here he comes across bandits, biker gangs, the Hare Krishna and a very seedy Real Estate Zaibatsu. And more! Influences from GTA 2, Die Hard, memes and Splatoon.


The minute hand strikes exactly at 8pm, after a long awaited delay.

"Sweet, dude." Toad thought to himself outside a rusty looking, unmaintained _Denny's_ outlet. Unlike other _Denny's_ chains, this particular branch looked, and smelled, more like rancid dogshit, complete with rotting 70s wallpaper and barely-functioning neon lights that hung clumsily above the entrance.

It was the perfect place to rob something.

Packing his tiny S&W revolver the size of a pimento bean, Toad barged in right through the dilapidated doors of the diner and waved around his "piece".

"ALRIGHT, THIS IS A **FUCKING** ROBBERY! HAND ME _ALL_ OF TODAY'S CASH, AN' DON'T YOU **DARE** GIVE ME ANY SHIT!" yelped Toad in the most pathetic screech that is humanly (or in this instance, Toadly) possible. In spite of how harmless and amateurish Toad seemed to sound, the whole diner panicked anyway and went apeshit like it was Armageddon.

"P-Please, I haven't had a chance to take a shit here!" pleaded one of the customers.

"Hookers, is that what you want, or booze? I _know_ a guy that sells that kinda shit!" muttered a smartly dressed man with a fancy trilby, tears rolling down his eyes.

Within all of this madness and hysteria, there was still one particular person in the diner who did not seem the least bit paranoid or scared of the situation.

"Well, _shoot_ me asshole, I hate my job anyway." Said the lady behind the counter. She was a fine piece of work trapped in a really unhygienic work uniform. An brunette angel with a bad attitude. She was none other than Princess Daisy from the _Mario_ series!

"Ooh, looks like we've got us fuckin' _Joan of Arc_ over here!" Toad said as he pointed his gun over to Princess Daisy, with his ironsight pointed upside down. "Alright, if someone isn't gonna give me any money in five seconds, _I'll_ _clobber her fuckin' cortex_!"

After a slight pause, the countdown finally began.

"FIIIIVE!"

No sound was heard in the diner at all apart from some guy rustling through the cash register, not yet.

"FOUR!"

This time, TWO separate sounds could clearly be heard, one from Toad pulling back the hammer of his tiny gat, and another sound from outside that seemed to be coming closer.

"… **THREEEEEE**!"

The sound of footsteps running became more and more audible!

"TWOOOO!..." As soon as Toad finished saying the word 'two', a weirdly animated young man donning some pretty slick black eye paint, a shirt with a picture of a dog on it and a snapback with the words 'dic' written on it suddenly busts through the doors with a shining Colt 1911 pistol held from his left hand.

" Yippee-ki _Woomy_ , **motherfucker**!" said the man before firing a bullet right into Toad's stupid head.

Toad's head disintegrated into several chunky, Toady bits that would make any vegetarian start eating meat. The threat was finally neutralised courtesy of the Second Amendment.

The man blew off the smoke from barrel of his weapon, before making his way to the counter with a few dollar bills clenched with his thick fingers.

" I request for some goddamned pancakes, _YA HEARD_?" said the man angrily, as if he hadn't eaten for days.

"Jesus H., you didn't have to make a fuckin' scene here…" said Princess Daisy as she grilled up the batter to make some fine, all-American pancakes for the road.

"Now I gotta clean all the piss stains on the floor due to these fools." Pointing at the customers, who appear traumatized as shit.

"Hey girl, you _gotta_ feed a hungry guy like _me_!" rebutted the man. "You know I always need the flapjacks after a long day at the scrapyard!"

"Oh beat it bum, go back to the dump where you live in." replied Princess Daisy with a noticeable smirk on her face.

After receiving the goodies, the man was back on the road going to Gosh knows where.

" _Splat Tim, you son of a bitch_." Smiled Princess Daisy.

A customer crawled out from under a table, pants drenched in piss. He mustered up some courage before inquiring "How the hell did you know that weirdo?"

"He's well known around the State," answered Princess Daisy.

" _He does it_."


End file.
